“You followed all of my instructions?”
“Sí.”
“You want me already, don’t you, niña?”
Carajo, she did. Her heart pounded, blood rushed to her face. “Yes.” She tilted her head back, allowing him full access to her throat.
He snuggled his hips against her, allowed her to feel his erection against her bottom. “It turns me on, knowing you are bare under that skirt.”
“Good.” She purred, knowing tonight was going to be so, so hot.
“Show me how much you want me.”
At his demand, she squirmed with need, but the rational part of her said no. “Let’s go inside.”
He ignored her suggestion. “I brought you a special necklace.” In the dark, he placed what felt like a three-inch-wide piece of leather around her neck.
“Now lace your fingers behind your head so I can attach your bracelets.”
He’d never given her jewelry before. But she sensed that this wasn’t ordinary. The choker around her neck constricted without being uncomfortable, but was a constant reminder of his possessive tendencies. Trembling, she did as he asked. He snapped more leather on her wrists, then attached her wrists to her neck collar.
She tugged, twisted. The straps held her firm. “Ray, I’m not sure . . .” He’d never tied her before. “Maybe this isn’t a good . . .”
“You’d like the air to kiss your bare skin, wouldn’t you? Would you like me to lift up your top?”
Madre mía . . . the idea set her pulse racing. She wanted Ray to bare her, and with her hands tied, even if she wanted him to stop, he could do whatever he wanted. Shaking with lust at her helplessness, more dampness creamed between her thighs. Panting, trying hard to keep her hips from grinding against him, she bit her lip to keep from moaning.
His voice, rough in her ear, rasped. “Answer me, dulce.”
It was almost dark, but was it dark enough? She told herself that if anyone glanced outside, they would see a man kissing a woman’s neck—nothing more. If they looked real close, they would see the silhouette of her breasts straining for his touch.
He nipped her shoulder, and desire pulsed.
She could only stand there and tremble, knowing she wanted him to follow through more badly than she’d wanted anything in her life . . . but unwilling to admit it. She should protest. The sane part of her said no, but the part that belonged to Ray said yes, yes, yes.
He waited, and tension sizzled.
Her mouth went dry, but she finally agreed. “Do it.”
“Querida, have you forgotten the neighbors?”
Caramba, she didn’t care.
Ray chuckled softly in her ear and raised his hand another inch beneath her blouse, his movement causing the material to rasp over her nipples. “Look over there. Is that the accountant staring at you?”
“What?” Adrenaline shot through her, and Maria jerked her head toward the neighbor’s apartment, frantically searching the upstairs and downstairs windows. She didn’t see anyone watching.
Ray was toying with her, and, nervous but even more aroused, she licked her lip. “No blinds moved. No one’s watching.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. A neighbor could drive up at any moment.”
At his comment, her gut tightened. Beneath her feet, the pavement released the warmth of the day. As he raised her top until the material bunched under her arms and fully exposed her breasts to the night air, she flushed with heat. At the sheer decadence, she could no longer hold back a soft moan.
“Take me inside to my apartment. Please.”
For his answer, he cupped one breast and tweaked the nipple hard.
“Ouch. That stings.”
“You aren’t into pain?” He pinched the other nipple.
“Ow. Ow. Ow.” Even as she protested, heat blazed between her legs. She rose onto her toes, tipping her butt up to him, wanting him inside her, needing him to fill her. Oddly, despite the pain, she really, really wanted him to pinch her nipples again.
“Take what I give you. Already the sting is fading, but your lust grows. Tell me I’m right.”
“Sí.”
“That’s right, cariña. You’re hotter now. Helpless and hot—and ready for me to bare your sweet ass.”
“Don’t make me wait.”
“You like me calling the shots. I only give you what you want. Isn’t that right?”
He placed his hands on her waist, lifted her, and for a moment she thought he was taking her inside and disappointment flooded her. He couldn’t stop now. How dare he stop after he’d pushed this far.
She should have known better. Ray repositioned her, bending her over the hood of her car until her bare breasts and tummy pressed against cool metal. Then he raised her skirt.
She gulped, imagining how she looked to him. With her heels raising her ass in the air, her body bent over the car, he could see . . . everything.
“You have a lovely ass, mi pequeña.” He stroked her gently, his touch a promise of so much more. “Perhaps I should leave you here and see who finds you.” He stepped away.
“Son of a bitch. Don’t you dare leave me here.” She thrashed in an effort to stand upright.
With a throaty chuckle, he placed a hand on the small of her back. “Such impatience.” When she heard his zipper, she realized he’d been toying with her again. He was going to give her exactly what she craved. What she couldn’t ask for. What made her crazy with lust. Ray was going to do her right here in public . . . and he’d taken away her choices.
Any one of her neighbors could look out their windows and see her. Or a car could pull up at any time . . . she’d never felt so naughty. So helpless. So absolutely lusty and feminine.
When his hands closed around her throat, she tensed. He’d never tied her before. Never made love to her in such a public place before. But as his strong fingers closed about the leather necklace, terror flooded her. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t worry, querida.”
He squeezed, cutting off her air.
No. No. No.
She needed air.
And then he rammed his sex into her from behind. Rode her fast, used her hard. She couldn’t breathe. Her lungs burned. He was strangling her. He cut off her air supply, yet there was no pain. Only a rushing sensation as if she’d dived headfirst out of an airplane. Her stomach turned, flipped.
And he kept pumping into her, choking the air passage. Her vision narrowed into a dark tunnel. She thrashed, bucked her hips. Stars burst in her head, and she climaxed so hard her knees buckled.
She gasped for air, and realized that Ray had finally eased his grip on her throat. Air now filled her lungs, and she took in greedy gulps as the last of the humongous orgasm pulsed through her.
Oh . . . My . . . God.
Panting, she slumped against the car’s hood, reveling in the after-spasms and drawing huge breaths of crisp air into her lungs.
“I thought . . . I thought I was going to die.”
“And you loved it, querida.” He laughed low and throaty, caressing her shoulders, kissing her ear.
And after her heart stopped pounding, after he untied her, gently covered her breasts and sensuously lowered her skirt, she once again realized that despite her panic, she’d loved every second. Dios mío. Ray understood her better than she knew herself. Never would she have thought she would enjoy such madness. The man brought out a darker side of her she hadn’t known existed. Her throat ached, her breath came in gasps. Her breasts throbbed.
She could have died. But the pleasure had been fantastic.
Still, she shouldn’t see Ray again. Not ever. Maria knew it. She just wasn’t sure she could resist him.
Chapter Eight
“HOW’S IT FEEL to be rich, Ms. Hansen?” A man holding a
Channel 28 mike stuck it into Dana’s face. She swatted it aside like an annoying mosquito and kept walking through the terminal.
After landing at Tampa International Airport, Mandy had hoped she and Dana could avoid zealous reporters as easily as Zack had dodged them in L.A. But the moment they had debarked the airside monorail and stepped into the terminal, a news crew had swarmed around them. She didn’t see the bodyguards Zack had hired anywhere. Instead, photographers pointed their long lenses and snapped rudely while the airport security paid little attention. In the circus-like atmosphere that made them the focus of an increasingly raucous crowd that impeded their progress, Mandy’s unease grew, and her stomach knotted.
She didn’t like surprises. She didn’t like being stared at as if she were as rare as an albino gator.
A second reporter placed a delaying hand on Mandy’s shoulder. She shrugged it off and marched beside Dana. “For them to be interested in us, nothing else important must have happened today. We aren’t news. This is insane.”
“And not very safe. I’d like to know how they found out which flight we were on.” Dana kept her voice down, but Mandy picked up her concern. Ever since Princess Diana’s death had caused worldwide headlines, you had to be living in a tomato patch not to know that the press’s vigorous pursuit could be dangerous. Mandy had heard reports of the paparazzi driving up on sidewalks to take pictures of celebrities. Although she and Dana weren’t stars, their sudden wealth had most definitely placed them in the public eye.
Yikes. Mandy couldn’t help but worry that if her picture showed up in the newspaper, that whoever had pushed her off the bridge might recognize her and find her again. Stop it. If she kept up that kind of thinking, she’d soon be worrying as much as her mother.
“Mandy!” A reporter called after her as they rushed across the terminal toward the escalators that would take them down two floors to the baggage claim area. At her name, Mandy turned, and camera lights flashed. For a moment she couldn’t see. If not for Dana’s steadying grip, she might have fallen. The photographer moved in for a closer shot. “Smile for me, Mandy. Tell us how you plan to spend your winnings.”
She wished she was wearing a hat and dark sunglasses. She even considered opening her travel umbrella and ducking behind it, but in this crowd, that was out of the question. Poking out someone’s eye, accident or not, might make front-page news. Would certainly cause a messy lawsuit. Instead, she held her closed umbrella in front of her like a weapon, ready to poke anyone who stepped within her space.
“How’s it feel to win the lottery?” another reporter asked.
“Will you donate to the church?”
“How about to charity?”
Mandy rolled her eyes. “It’s a damn circus.” And she and Dana occupied center ring.
With determination, they shouldered through the reporters onto the escalator. Narrow handrails forced the group to stop and jostle among themselves for the privilege of riding closest to them.
Dana tugged Mandy’s wrist. “Keep moving. When we reach the bottom, bolt for the elevators.”
Dana’s plan had merit. Other travelers craned their necks and stared, curious to see what was going on. A quick look at the empty carousel revealed that their flight’s baggage had yet to begin unloading. The idea of waiting even five minutes for their luggage while the reporters surrounded them and hurled questions had Mandy wincing.
But she hated to go home without her luggage and her presents for Gabby and her mother. “What about our bags?”
“We’ll call the airline later and have them delivered.” Dana dipped and swayed through the milling travelers, aiming for the bank of elevators. Mandy wondered why airport security didn’t care they were being hassled.
Knowing her mother would understand and that Gabby wouldn’t know the difference if she had to wait for a gift, Mandy nodded and drew Dana through an opening in the milling crowd. “Come on. Stay with me.”
Out of breath, they arrived at the bank of elevators. One set of doors opened, and two kids in backpacks hurried out. Mandy and Dana stumbled inside. Mandy slapped the “close door” button before anyone else could follow. She reached to press the button for the fifth floor of the parking garage.
Dana panted, slightly out of breath. “Press them all. If a reporter’s watching, he won’t know where we got off.”
“Good thinking.”
After they rose a floor and the elevator stopped and the door opened on the next level, Mandy tensed. She waited to see if reporters would try to join them and kept her hand hovering over the “close door” button. But three harmless-looking blue-haired ladies got on, chatting about the thunderstorm and how their wilting gardenias would perk up in the much-needed shower.
The conversation’s normality soothed Mandy’s frazzled nerves. Over the heads and hats of the three diminutive ladies, Dana caught Mandy’s eyes and grinned. “You having fun yet?”
Mandy rubbed her neck with obvious weariness. For the last week, her life had taken on a chaotic quality she found upsetting. Her usual world, order and predictability, had shifted into random and scary.
While Dana seemed to be handling the pressure, the weariness in her eyes revealed that she’d had enough excitement, too. Of course, she wasn’t also dealing with a potential killer or the effects of one bubbly baby, either.
“I’m looking forward to home and one of Sam’s magnificent back rubs,” Dana said.
“I’ll take four of Gabby’s sloppy kisses.” The doors swished open on the fifth level, and Mandy peered out. No one seemed the least bit interested in them, and she relaxed. The three ladies got off. No one got on. “I know Gabby’s too young to count. But last week every time I picked her up for a hug, she kissed both my cheeks, forehead and chin. That’s four kisses every time.”
“Maybe your mother taught her the pattern.”
“Maybe.” Her mother enjoyed showing Gabby new things. She’d already started teaching the baby her primary colors. Now, Mandy could afford to stay home if she wanted and enjoy her daughter’s progress, too. All weekend she’d been trying to absorb the differences the Powerball money would make in their lives and figure out if now was the right time to tell Zack the truth. The money had been easier to deal with. No more financial worries—ever. No more making choices between paying off her student loans and saving for Gabby’s education. She could even afford to buy her mother a place of her own. Buy a sports car and an SUV if she wanted. Thinking about the money had been much easier.
Ironically, Zack himself had made the process a little less painful than it could have been. While she’d maintained an outward indifference to him and he’d continued to try to charm her, except for the first night in the hotel bar, they hadn’t spent a moment alone. Dana, too, had helped matters by never once mentioning Gabrielle while in Zack’s presence.
But although she and Zack hadn’t been alone, Mandy had watched him, listened to his exchanges with Dana. She remembered him as more light-hearted. Now he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. She’d forced herself to use every ounce of her lawyer’s objectivity to decide how to best handle the difficult situation.
Two days later, the only thing she was sure of was that Dana was right to be worried about Zack. He hadn’t been eating. His collarbones had stuck out in the V of his shirt, and he had worry lines at the corners of his eyes. He’d claimed to be waiting for his bruises and cuts to heal before taking his next dangerous assignment. While that reasoning was certainly plausible, both she and Dana sensed there was more to his story.
When he’d refused to say more, Dana’s worry lines deepened. But Mandy had been relieved. Now wasn’t the right time.
No, for the moment, Mandy saw no point in forcing any of them to deal with the upheaval her news would bring. Zack had promised Dana a visit home before he went undercover again. So Mandy would ree
valuate when he got to Tampa. Maybe then he’d have resolved whatever was troubling him. Surely, meeting their beautiful daughter in person would take the edge off his shock—Mandy hoped.
The elevator doors swished open again, interrupting her thoughts. This time they were on an upper level of the parking garage. Tires squealed. A horn blared. Outside the parking garage, a lightning storm raged, lighting up the airport and stopping all incoming and outgoing flights. Between the thunderclouds that darkened the sky and the high winds blowing the rain sideways, they’d have a difficult drive home. At least, they’d landed before the storm had shut down the airport, and none of the reporters had reappeared.
“Looks like we lost them.” Dana reached into her purse for her car keys and cell phone. They’d driven to the airport together, and Dana would drop off Mandy. “I’m calling to find out what happened to the bodyguards Zack hired.”
Mandy just nodded, shoving away her memory of the incident with the silver pickup truck in the last parking garage she’d been in. Instead, she willed the warm humidity to calm her. They’d escaped the reporters. For the first time since leaving the plane, she breathed in tropical air and confidently stepped from the elevator, purse in one hand, umbrella in the other.
“What do you mean, Zack canceled our protection?” Dana spoke into the phone. “There must have been a mix-up.”
Mandy glanced at her friend to find her scowling.
“You’ll be hearing from him. Trust me.”
Dana snapped shut the phone, clearly irritated. “I don’t like this at all.”
“I’m sure it will be fine once you talk to Zack,” Mandy hoped.
Dana didn’t reply as they headed into the open-air garage that revealed darkening skies. She winced at the rain that slashed from the south and Tampa Bay, and directed Dana to walk clear of the garage’s sides where rainwater blew in and pooled at the edges.
“The weather’s not too bad,” Mandy said with forced cheeriness. “Barring an accident on the interstate, we should be home for dinner.”
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